I'm hoping to hear about the new songs she has written. Wondering how one of the most gifted country-folk performers of the '90s — a woman whose songs touch people in such profound ways — could simply stop writing. I dial the number, and Iris DeMent answers at her home in Kansas City, Mo.

I get to the point fairly quickly. What are you up to these days?

"I did six loads of laundry yesterday," DeMent says. "I worked in the garden. I'm a gardening fanatic. I have a little girl in school, so I do lots of those things you might expect."

It's nice to hear that the 46-year-old DeMent has settled into a life of domestic bliss (she's married to singer/songwriter Greg Brown), replete with yard work and PTA meetings. But I have to press DeMent about her recording career, which since 1996 has amounted to a collection of church hymns dedicated to her mother. I take a diplomatic approach, as opposed to blurting, "Iris, why have you been such a slack-ass?"

Me: Most people would agree that every album you have made is commendable. But you've only released a total of four in 15 years. To what do you attribute the long gaps — specifically the eight-year hiatus between 1996's The Way I Should and 2004's [gospel album] Lifeline?

Iris: "I don't know," she says flatly. "I know when I was kid I wanted to write songs everyday, and after breakfast I would play piano until I was late for school. But I never wrote a line [lyric] until I was 25.

"I don't know the answer to that question. I feel music is still in me. I still write a song I love every year or two. I've just never been that kind of [prolific] writer. Something builds up in me until it has to blow out of me."

Contemplating DeMent's response, I'm reminded of the title track to The Way I Should. It's a song to alleviate the pangs of anxiety when one starts to question his or her self-worth — or productivity. It could be read as DeMent justifying her minimal songwriting output. She sings: "It's true I don't work near as hard/ As you tell me that I'm supposed to/ I don't run as fast as I could/ But I live just the way I want to/ And that's the way I should."

Although DeMent isn't cranking out many new originals, songs like "Wasteland of the Free," another standout track from The Way I Should, remains a favorite at community radio stations like WMNF (88.5). As far as protest songs go, it easily ranks with anything Guthrie or Dylan ever recorded. Its driving melody is caressed by a cadre of ace session men including Chuck Leavell, who enlivens the tune with the kind of high-flying organ runs that propel "Like a Rolling Stone." The result is a slice of invective catchier than it has any right to be.

"'Wasteland' came really fast," DeMent says. "Stuff had been gnawing away at me for a long time."

The song finds DeMent firing her criticism at popular lefty targets: "Preachers dealin' in politics," "politicians runnin' races on corporate cash," and "CEO's makin' 200 times the workers' pay." Another line goes: "We kill for oil and then throw a party when we win." It's easy to understand the timeless appeal of such lines.

"I shudder to think what it would have sounded like written in 2007," DeMent says. "Things are so much worse. The song is still relevant. A lot needs to change."

DeMent was flown in to perform "Wasteland of the Free" at the Democracy Rising "People Have the Power" Tour featuring Ralph Nader when it came to the USF Sun Dome in 2002. Michael Moore also spoke at the event, as did Jello Biafra. Patti Smith and her band played a set as well. While Moore whipped the students into a frenzy, I spotted DeMent seated backstage on a metal folding chair, alone, with her arms folded. During a break in the action, I spoke with her. The singer appeared shy and extremely nervous about the task ahead. Does DeMent suffer from stage fright?

"I guess that's what it is," she says. "I can get that feeling in front of 50 people, too. And there it was just me and an acoustic guitar in a basketball arena.

"I always get nervous," she continues. "I think it's because I want to do well and for what I'm trying to say to get across to people. That matters to me. It surprises me that I still get nervous, but in a funny way, I guess it's good that I still get nervous — it reminds me I still care. As long as it doesn't become debilitating, I'm OK with it."

Whereas The Way I Should had more of a political bent, 1994's My Life was as personal as the title suggests. The album carefully addresses such sensitive subject matter as losing her father in '92, the same year her acclaimed debut album Infamous Angel came out on Warner Bros. "No Time To Cry," the song about her dad, includes such plaintive lines as: "Well, I stayed at home just long enough to lay him in the ground/ And then I caught a plane to do a show up north in Detroit town."

It's a song with undeniable emotional heft, one that must be difficult to perform on any given night. "Just about any of my songs can be tough to perform depending on my mood. My husband called me at home while I was singing [by myself], and I had been crying," DeMent says. "I love that when my songs come to me and seem like they're not mine and grab my hand like a friend would do. I'm so grateful. They're like great big gifts."

Hopefully more gifts will arrive in the future. We'll be waiting patiently.

This article appears in Aug 1-7, 2007.